Shadow Rising: Sight Unseen
by wannabeWriter888
Summary: Episode 2: Tommy Merlyn has awakened as a prophet. He questions the motives of those around him as he fights his new reality. After a man claiming to be a listener is found dead, Tommy's visions may lead to answers, if he accepts his new responsibilities. AU
1. Part One

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Arrow_ or DC comics.

 **A/N:** This is the second episode in my little series. Reading the first one is probably not necessary, though I'm trying not be too redundant for anyone who has read the first. Reviews are appreciated as they let me know how I'm doing.

* * *

Starring:

Colin Donnell, Stephen Amell, Katie Cassidy, David Ramsey, Willa Holland, and Audrey Marie Anderson

Guest Starring:

Teryl Rothery, Marc Singer, Chin Han, Roger Cross, Susanna Thompson, Jamey Sheridan, Caity Lotz, Marcus Rosner, Jessica De Gouw, Venus Terzo

* * *

Part One

If there was any place Thomas Merlyn liked less than a hospital, it was a law office. Though the dentist office came in at a close third. His aversion to hospitals was ironic considering his profession as a medical doctor, but it was the buildings he detested not the patients or the workers in them. Law offices, on the other hand, Tommy disliked them because of the people in them. To be fair, he knew there were good lawyers out there who were decent human beings; he just hadn't met one yet. But then all the lawyers he'd met so far knew his father in some form or fashion, except the one he was visiting today.

Unfortunately for Jean Loring, the reason Tommy was visiting her office had already colored his perception of her. Jean had been his mother's friend and the lawyer Rebecca Merlyn turned to when she needed legal help. Tommy had wondered why his mom never used any of the lawyers at Merlyn Global. He'd asked once, and Rebecca had told him she preferred to go to a friend rather than pester one of his dad's employees. It had been a flimsy excuse at the time, but now Tommy was grateful that Jean was the executor of his mom's will and not one of his father's slimy fellows. This meant he was waiting in Jean's modern office rather than the clinical halls of Merlyn Global. He still would've preferred to be elsewhere. He wished his mom was alive, then this wouldn't be necessary.

Tommy sat in Jean's lobby and stared out the window, not really seeing the busy Seattle streets below. Jean's personal secretary worked quietly in the corner while her boss finished up an early morning phone conference. In the hall, beyond the glass wall of Jean's private office space, the junior members of Loring, Steele, and Sharp bustled about their day. Tommy lost himself in a memory of a happier day with his mom, when she'd surprised him as a guest lecturer at med school. Better to remember the good days then let himself stew over the events and pain he saw in his sleep every night. He actually missed the days when his nightmares were caused from all that he'd seen and done as a doctor abroad on a humanitarian mission.

"Tommy, good to see you, despite the circumstances. I'm sorry for keeping you waiting," Jean returned to her office at a brisk pace. She smiled sadly at him and held out a hand. Tommy rose from his seat and shook her hand, thanking her for the condolences she offered next. Then Jean turned to look at the cold-faced suit who'd risen when Tommy had; "And what can I do for you, Mr.?"

"Matthew Shrieve, I'm here to represent Mr. Merlyn's interests, Malcolm Merlyn that is."

"I assume you have the paperwork?" Jean inquired and accepted the documents Mr. Shrieve expediently produced; "Well, everything looks in order. I assume this means Mr. Merlyn will not be joining us?"

"He sends his regrets," Shrieve replied and gave some excuse about being needed in the Florida branch. Tommy shoved his hands in his pockets and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Malcolm hadn't even visited Rebecca on her death bed, why would he bother to make the time to hear any last requests.

Jean led them to a private conference room and had her secretary retrieve Rebecca's will. Tommy took a seat to Jean's right, Mr. Shrieve to her left. When the secretary returned, she carried in a small box which had Tommy raising his eyebrows. "Your mother had a few personal items she asked me to keep and there will be a bit of paperwork for you," Jean explained when she caught Tommy's expression. Then Jean pulled out the will and read through it once. After that she sat with Tommy to explain certain aspects in detail.

Malcolm inherited majority of Rebecca's jewelry and material things to sell or give away. The only exceptions were her wedding band and engagement ring as well as her private house on a lake with all the contents, those went to Tommy. Rebecca also left Malcolm a letter and a locked box which rattled when Jean handed it over to Mr. Shrieve. All their joint accounts immediately transferred to Malcolm, but Rebecca stipulated that a portion of her shares in Merlyn Global be given solely to Tommy. She had several personal accounts and separate assets from Malcolm, which she bequeathed to Tommy's trust fund. The biggest surprise was learning Rebecca had bought out Malcolm from the NGO which ran and funded her clinics; she'd also given her seat on the board to Tommy.

"I've been the president of the NGO since its inception, so I can bring you up to speed on what's going on. If you would prefer to consider your options, I understand, and we can talk later. But your mom did want me to let you know there will always be a position open to you at any of her clinics, in whatever capacity you'd like."

Tommy thanked Jean for her consideration and asked for a week to think on the board position and job offer. He wasn't certain he wanted to stay in Seattle. He had no strong ties to the area with his mom gone and at least a dozen good reasons to leave, including his nightly terrors. The reading done, Mr. Shrieve left, but Jean had Tommy stay behind to go over some of the paperwork for the transfer of assets and his assumption of the house, which Rebecca had moved into a different trust not under Tommy's name. Jean had to explain that Rebecca had kept the house out of both their names for privacy.

"Here, there's something else your mom asked me to give you, not part of the will," Jean retrieved a small box from her pocket. Tommy opened it to find a key; narrow, gold, and antique-looking with engravings he couldn't make out.

"Do you know what it's for?"

"I'm sorry, I don't. She only asked that I give it to you after she died."

Tommy tucked the key in his coat pocket, hiding his disappointment. He'd been hoping his mom would've left him answers, not material things. He had so many questions. Like what it meant, that he was now a prophet; an ability he'd somehow inherited from her. And what had she known about the other worlds? Had she found a way to stop the visions? Tommy felt as if he'd been tossed into a twilight zone, where the world he thought he knew had suddenly tilted on its axis. His mom had known this would happen to him and he wanted to know why she hadn't prepared him or left him some instructions.

SR*SR*SR

As he left the office of Loring, Steele, and Sharp, Tommy found Oliver Queen waiting for him. Despite the clouds that threatened to downpour, Oliver wore a pair of dark sunglasses and a sleeveless gray tee. He cut his hair short now, a distinctive look from the dark blonde locks of his youth. Tommy checked to see if Oliver's Aston Martin was parked nearby, it wasn't.

"I thought I'd catch a ride from you," Oliver supplied, catching Tommy's search. Tommy waved him to the Tesla's passenger side. He wasn't certain he wanted to know what Oliver had been up to the night before. A couple of weeks ago, he would've assumed Oliver had spent the night at a hook-up's place. Now Tommy knew his friend might've been dealing with otherworldly creatures and he was afraid to ask if that was the case. Oliver didn't bother to volunteer any information and got into the car.

"Why do you wear those?" Tommy indicated the sunglasses. He'd asked Oliver before and had received a glib answer back then. Considering he now knew the truth about Oliver being an angel, he wanted to see if the reply would change. Oliver considered his answer for a moment. "Unlike demons, who can hide or reveal their possession to humans at will, angels have occasional flare ups of power. To regular humans, our eyes glow. The shades are a precaution."

"You didn't use to wear shades all the time, only since the accident four years ago," Tommy noted; "Did you have your own awakening then or did you like die and come back an angel?"

Oliver sighed. Tommy had been avoiding Oliver's attempts to educate him about otherworldly beings for the past few days. Figures this would be the topic he first expressed an interest in.

"I didn't die or awaken, though I was close to death when I became a host."

"A host, like voices in your head or you're a passenger in your body?" Tommy tensed at the idea that Oliver wasn't fully Oliver anymore.

"Neither. Ours is more a symbiotic relationship. The angel and I are one being now. We share all the memories of our previous experiences before we joined; everything he was and is, is a part of me now as I am a part of him. We think and feel as one."

"And how is that different from a demon?"

"Demons suppress and torment the humans they possess; the more powerful ones can even evict the human inside, permanently. They don't share, they just take," Oliver replied tersely, not appreciating the implication he was like a demon.

"Is that what happened to Dinah, the real Dinah?"

"Laurel," Oliver smiled bitterly; "The human Dinah's possessing prefers to go by Laurel. And according to Dinah, Laurel's still in there, just asleep."

"And you believe Dinah?"

"Dinah isn't like most demons, she's more complicated. Not inherently cruel."

"You almost sound like you care about her," Tommy gave Oliver a sidelong look.

"It's complicated," Oliver replied after a pregnant pause.

"Really?" Tommy snarked.

"I used to date Laurel, before all this," Oliver gestured to his head and shades; "We were serious, and then I got her baby sister killed."

"Wait, you mean the sister you invited on the plane. That girlfriend? The one your mom was convinced you were going to marry – wasn't she a brunette?"

"Yes."

Tommy whistled. That definitely was complicated. But knowing the truth about Oliver, that he shared his body with another entity, didn't help Tommy feel better. For if his best friend could lie to him about something so important for four years, what else was he keeping secret?

SR*SR*SR

 _ **Four Years Ago**_

 _Oliver Queen lounged outside his family's private hanger while his dad prepped their Pilatus PC-12 NG plane. His dark blonde hair was still long and carefully groomed into a side part. Oliver leaned against the hangar wall, chatting on his phone. He was giving directions to his soon-to-arrive guest. Then he spotted a familiar car heading his way, which did not belong to his intended companion. He momentarily panicked; "Sara, head back to the gas station you just passed. Your sister's here. I'll call you when she's gone."_

 _Oliver ended the call and plastered a pleased-to-see-you smile on his face at his girlfriend's unexpected sendoff. Dinah Laurel Lance stepped out of her car and met her boyfriend halfway. He greeted her with a kiss, then inquired about her surprise visit. Laurel tucked back a lock of her brown hair and gave Oliver an impish grin._

" _You're going to be gone three weeks, I thought I'd give you something to remember me by," Laurel handed him a wallet-sized photo of her._

" _I promise I'll take good care of her," Oliver kissed the picture before tucking it into his shirt pocket. Laurel hummed, not all that concerned, and looped her arms around his shoulders: "When you get back, I'll give you your real present."_

" _A present? Do I get a hint?" Oliver leaned in to kiss her, but Laurel pressed a finger to his lips._

" _You'll have to unwrap me to get it," she promised with a sultry tilt of her lips._

 _Oliver pulled her hand away from his mouth and hissed her ardently. Behind them the plane's engines roared to life._

SR*SR*SR

Dr. Schwartz thrummed with energy. She worked at a brusque pace and didn't waste time on unnecessary words. Her focus was on the medicine and treating as many patients as she could in the day, to the best of her ability. Efficient and exceptional care, Tommy recalled his mom's description of Dr. Schwartz. That certainly summed up the woman who'd taken over the day-to-day running of Rebecca Merlyn's first clinic. The place had expanded since the last time Tommy visited his mom there. Dr. Schwartz had already pointed out the four exams rooms which lined the main hall, directly off the waiting room. She'd also directed his attention to the classroom off the waiting room which had a separate entrance from the street; the clinic rented that room out to different exercise instructors and several anonymous groups when not using it for their own needs.

"Breakroom," Dr. Schwartz pushed open the door to reveal a kitchenette and small round table built for two. Then they took a couple steps down the hall, the doctor pointed to the next door on the same wall; "Pharmacy, only doctors are allowed keys. We don't keep any narcotics. Other doors are storage, then the cleaning and utility room." Those would be the doors on the other side of the hall.

The clinic was a small, practical place where people came to feel better. The rooms weren't impersonal, but intentionally bland, yet Tommy could see his mom's touches. Fresh flowers in every room. Pictures of sunny beaches or peaceful meadows on the walls. A drawer full of lollipops behind the nurses' desk, to be given to the good patients, young or old.

"This is our main office. We have three smaller clinics around town. You're welcome to work at any of them, if you're interested," Dr. Schwartz said as she led him to the final door. This one needed no introduction for Tommy.

"I haven't quite made up my mind, what I'm going to do next. But this place certainly feels like it will fit," Tommy told her with a small grin. The last door was covered with the artwork from a dozen young hands. The sight amused him more than it hurt, which he took as a good sign of progress. Dr. Schwartz barely glanced at the pictures, so used to them, and opened the door; "Your mom's office."

If the clinic held touches of Rebecca Merlyn, her office was a vibrant portrait. There was a coatrack in one corner covered with bright scarves, Halloween masks, a couple of wigs, and a blue cape. Bunny slippers poked out from under the desk for when she completed charts after all day on her feet. Photos of her beloved patients adorned one side wall. Medical textbooks and journals weighed down a small bookcase behind the door. Four filing cabinets lined the wall behind her desk, her neat script labeling each.

"I'll give you a few minutes," Dr. Schwartz squeezed his arm compassionately, then shut the door behind her.

Tommy nodded in thanks, unable to answer because of the burning lump in his throat. He missed her so much.

After a few minutes, he took a seat in her chair behind the desk. He soaked in the feeling of her lingering presence. Remembering all the good times he'd had in this room. Coloring next to the bookshelf when he was very little and playing videogames in the cape when he was older. He used to sulk in the spare chair as a teenager, listening to his mom hum while she wrote. They'd had many heartfelt chats over the phone when he was away at college; her in this very room, him in the quietest corner he could find. He imagined when they talked she'd looked at the pictures of them from his high school and college graduations which she displayed proudly on the desk next to her wedding photo. He smiled at the patterned folders on top of the desk, the patterns and colors a part of his mom's clever organizational method.

He was testing the different locks, though none matched the gilded key in his possession, when someone knocked on the door. Rap-rap-rap. Tommy jumped, uncomfortable memories from his time abroad rattling through his head. He focused on the photos with him mom in them to ground himself. "Just a minute," he called, tucking away the mysterious key.

He was still behind his mom's desk when an older man let himself in. Black hair, dark eyes, and an old but well-maintained suit, walking with a cane. Tommy didn't recognize the gentleman who was around Rebecca's age. The man didn't wear the scrubs of the nurses or the white coat of a doctor at the clinic. He blinked in surprise at the sight of Tommy, probably expecting Rebecca. Most likely a patient of his mom's, one who didn't know of her passing.

"It's true then, she's really gone," the man murmured, never taking his eyes off Tommy; "I heard the whispers but didn't believe them. Not our Rebecca."

"I'm sorry, but if you're here for medical attention, you need to wait in the lobby until one of the other doctors can help you."

"Pah, I don't need a doctor. I'm here for you boy. With your mother gone, you're our only hope."

"Uh, okay. If you wait here, I'll see about getting one of the nurses," Tommy edged his way towards the door. The other man had moved into the office, allowing a small window of escape if Tommy moved fast enough.

"I told you, I don't need a doctor," the man barked.

"Right, you said that. Why don't you take a seat there and we can talk about this, once I check on something, real quick," Tommy tried to placate the clearly delusional man. He hoped Dr. Schwartz would know what meds the man needed or that the clinic kept a supply of antipsychotics on hand.

"Listen to me, Tommy," the man grabbed his arm as he was inching through the doorway; "I know you're a prophet like she was. I know about the other worlds. I can help you, you have to listen to me."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Tommy snapped. This was a joke, this had to be a joke.

"I'm not –" a sudden cough racked the man and he released Tommy to cover his mouth.

Tommy bolted. He used the second exit at the back of the building and put as much distance between him and the man as he could.

SR*SR*SR

Tommy was not taking his new reality well. Thea could tell from the tense line of his shoulders. He thought he was being sneaky, trying to study her and Ollie when he believed no one was watching. Thea suspected he was at least half in denial at this point. She could sympathize with him, she really could, but he wasn't her responsibility. That delightful duty fell to Ollie, a fact she reminded him of when she caught his eye and discreetly nodded in Tommy's direction. Ollie shrugged, the problem a work-in-progress. Then Ollie winked, he was keeping a close eye on the freshly awakened prophet. Good.

First chance Thea had, she was going to hit the books. Her friends from high school would've laughed if she'd told them that. The Thea Queen they knew never studied. Of course, most people, including her mom, thought they knew her now and even they didn't see the full truth. Occasionally, she actually studied for the classes she was taking at college. Most of the books she read dealt in the other worlds and how to hunt the various nasties that crept into this one. When she had the time between balancing two separate lives, she was going to research what previous hunters had learned about prophets and _concurret orbi_.

"You mentioned plans with some friends tonight," Moira indirectly asked. Thea nodded and quickly swallowed; "Yep, me and a few classmates, we're having a small study session, then we're thinking of hitting a couple bars. Probably won't be back until after midnight."

Yep, it would be her and her good friends, Crossbow and Stake, tonight. They were going to track down a new nest of neferi and dust the blood-suckers. Questioning their queen to figure out the sudden interest of shadow-worlders in Seattle would likely take well past midnight, but the job had to be done.

At least Tommy knew better than to bring up the other worlds around Moira. Thea and Ollie had explained early on that their mother knew nothing of the otherworldly side to her children, and for her own protection it was going to stay that way. Eventually, Tommy would get over his denial and enter the thousand-and-one question stage, but he'd know the importance of staying mum around Mom.

"Oh, well, I hope you and your friends have a good time," Moira said with half a smile. This time Ollie shot Thea a look.

"You know, I'm free tomorrow night. Would you like to do something together then?" Thea offered.

"Are you sure dear?" Thea nodded; "Then that would be lovely," now a real smile graced her mom's face. They discussed a few activities they might do, but ultimately decided to be spontaneous. The loss of their dad still cut their mom deeply; the only times she really seemed happy were when she was spending time with one of her kids. Ollie and Thea had agreed to care for her as she healed at her own pace, and they'd rope Tommy into helping once he got his bearings.

"Tommy, how was your day? Tommy," Moira turned to her surrogate son next; "Tommy?"

"What? Oh, I'm sorry Moira, what did you say?" Tommy snapped out of his fugue state and Moira repeated her question; "Okay I guess. The reading went faster than I thought, but I think the clinic visit took more out of me than expected."

Yeah, Thea was willing to bet there was more to that story, but again, not her problem. Her meal finished, Thea made her excuses and left the dining room. She had a night of hunting to do. Ollie signaled to her as she passed him: Be careful. She smiled wickedly in return: Never.

SR*SR*SR

The older gentleman with the cane, whose name was Frank Chen, dozed on the bed in his motel room. The day had not gone as he'd hoped. He would have to try again tomorrow with young Merlyn. He would have to keep trying until the boy listened. Sudden whispers in Frank's ears had him bolting upright. He swung his aching leg off the bed, used his cane as a crutch, and yanked a small chest out from under the bed.

Setting the chest in the chair, he peeked out the window. Nothing suspicious in sight. The whispers warned him this would not be the case much longer. He had to move now. Chest under one arm, cane supporting him in the other hand, he left his room behind. The muscles in his bad leg threatened to cramp as he thumped down the cement stairs to his car. He pushed himself faster, knowing the urgency.

He placed the chest into the passenger seat and turned on his car. The lights flickered on in the early, pre-dawn morning. Frank drove away. Twenty minutes later he returned, clomping back up the stairs, despite the whispers cautioning against it. He had to. He'd left the spare keys in the room. Had to get them. He had his cane, but no chest. He hurried to his room and set the lock and chain for good measure. The whispers ceased.

A gun cocked behind him. Frank Chen turned around; "So, it's you then. They warned me you were coming, but they've never been very good with names."

A clap of thunder filled the room.


	2. Part Two

_Usual disclaimers apply._

* * *

Part Two

When Tommy dreamed that night, he found himself in an unfamiliar room. The dream wasn't a real dream, but a prophetic vision. Tommy could tell because he was semi-lucid though he knew he was asleep in the Queen mansion. The analytical part of him, developed from years of medical school, had begun to differentiate between the visions; classifying them. There were the radio transmissions: brief cries of pain, flickers of people in need, yet those visions rarely lasted long enough for him to learn anything useful. An indistinct woman begging for her life in an alleyway, a teenager with a noose, a man's wedding band glittering as he dumped crushed-pills into a wine glass for someone else. The transmissions filled his sleep almost every night, but the interpretive visions haunted him. Less often, but more intense, were the nightmares of the dead rising from their graves to slay the living or ravens descending to gobble up all the crops in a field. Sometimes he wondered if those weren't visions of otherworldly beings, like when he saw a woman's eyes turning blood-red and her blue veins popping from head to neck. Yet an instinct told him he'd know an otherworldly in a vision when he saw one.

This dream wasn't like either of those types. Tommy found himself in a cheap motel room, as physically detailed as if he were actually there. He could smell the pot wafting up from another room and the old reek of wet cat. He could even read the name under the playing cards logo: Royal Flush Suites. He might've assumed it was another interpretive vision if not for the dead man who talked to him. It was the older man with the cane who spouted off nonsense at his mom's clinic. Except there were two versions of him now. One lay dead on the floor in the ransacked room, the other stood mournfully next to Tommy. It was the standing one, bloodstains still on his chest, who talked to Tommy.

"We were too late then. It has already begun," the man murmured, staring at his other body.

"What do you mean?" Tommy found himself asking the question on his mind.

"Too much to explain now. My name is Frank Chen; or was. I know you've inherited your mother's gift of prophecy, I was a friend of Rebecca's, a listener. We helped each other on many otherworldly cases."

"A listener? Is that like a prophet or a hunter?"

"Pah, I told you. There isn't enough time. I had brought something, something they wanted but the voices warned me in time. I hid the chest in my trunk, then parked my car on the old ley line. Hid the spares in my room. The key to retrieve them is unseen but heard."

"I don't understand," Tommy wanted answers, not more riddles. Frank Chen's spirit grabbed his arm. His iron grip caused Tommy yelped. "Listen to me, the key is unseen but heard. You must find the chest. Without out it, you will not be able to stop what's coming. It's all coming true. The time has come."

Tommy wanted to ask what time had come, what was coming true. He didn't get the chance. The vision blurred, the colors swirled around him. He woke to the blare of his alarm.

SR*SR*SR

 _ **Four Years Ago**_

 _The plane took off without a problem, but they hit some turbulence once they reached the proper altitude. A small shower, nothing Robert Queen couldn't handle. Still he called back from the cockpit, requesting Oliver and his guest remain seated until they cleared the edge of the storm. Oliver wasn't concerned at all, but Sara was a little jumpy having never been in harsh weather on such a small plane before. Oliver spent an hour distracting her and getting to know her better in the process. Once his dad gave the all clear, Oliver went to check-in on the pilot, promising Sara a drink as soon as he returned. Her laughter at his parting suggestion followed him all the way to the copilot's seat._

" _That son, will not end well," Robert cautioned, eyes on the sky. Oliver slid into the second chair and skimmed over the readings, most of it drivel to him; "You'll only end up hurting them both."_

" _It's not what you think, Dad," Oliver lounged in his seat, fiddling with the spare headset._

" _You snuck your girlfriend's sister onto our plane, what else am I supposed to think?"_

" _Sara wants a weekend away, to cut loose, and we were already heading to New York. I invited her along for some harmless fun. Laurel's never going to find out," Oliver explained, not bothering to go into detail. He had other reasons for inviting Sara, ones he didn't want to share with his dad, yet._

 _To Oliver, it was a win-win situation. Laurel had been hinting she wanted a more serious commitment. Bringing Sara along gave him exactly what he needed before he satisfied Laurel's dreams. Sara got a taste of the good life and a break from her studies. Most importantly, they'd accomplish their mischief right under Laurel's nose without her ever knowing the truth. Oliver smiled smugly at the thought._

SR*SR*SR

Tommy wondered if it was luck or planning on Frank Chen's part that there was only one motel named Royal Flush Suites in Seattle. Royal Flush was an unfranchised, family-owned motel with hourly rates in a hardier part of the city. The day after his mom's will-reading, late in the morning after a surreal vision, Tommy found himself driving to the cheap motel. He wondered if he wasn't a touch insane, to be checking on Frank after having a vision of him. Tommy wanted nothing to do with being a prophet. He wanted his mom's so-called gift gone. Yet he'd taken an oath, as a doctor, and discovered a personal interest in helping others. He had a duty to do everything in his power to help Frank Chen. He couldn't save those he received transmissions on, but he might be able to protect Frank.

This led him to the Royal Flush Suites, where a fifty got him Frank's room number. He walked up the stairs, the thought occurring to him, maybe he should've brought help. Only who would he have asked? A few weeks ago, he would've turned to Oliver in a heartbeat, no doubts. Now though, he knew Oliver wasn't entirely Oliver anymore or more accurately, he was more than just Oliver. Which made him wonder if he really knew his friend; could he know the real Oliver anymore? He supposed he could've asked Thea, but before the previous week she was the last person he would've invited into a potentially dangerous situation. She was practically his little sister and he was protective of her. Yet now he knew she was a hunter, one of a dozen young women called upon to protect their world with supernatural abilities. Thea was more dangerous than him, but one couldn't tell from looking at her, which made her scarier. Still, when Tommy thought of her, he remembered the little girl in pigtails begging him for a piggyback ride.

His best friend and said friend's sister had been keeping major secrets from him. Sure, a few weeks ago, before his visions started, he wouldn't have believed them if they told him the truth. He still had trouble believing in other worlds and otherworldlies, but his new reality was sinking in harder each day. That was why he was at Royal Flush, walking up the stairs to room 23, alone. He could've asked for back-up but hadn't because in the back of his mind he heard the warning a witch had given him. Lyla Diggle had told him to be wary of his otherworldly friends, because the secrets they hadn't shared would come back to hurt him later. Tommy could see Lyla's point, when he considered the truths the Queens had revealed so far. Still, as he reached Frank's door, he wished he wasn't alone.

"Mr. Chen?" Tommy knocked on the door, which swung open ominously. "It's Dr. Merlyn, Mr. Chen. May I come in?"

Receiving no answer, Tommy poked his head inside. He found the remnants of his vision. The potent combination of smoked pot and soaked cat assaulted his nose. The room had been torn apart. Mattress up-ended and sliced open, dresser drawers strewn on the floor, a chair and cushion rent. Frank Chen lay dead in the center of the floor; two gunshot wounds to the chest, a broken eye socket, and dribbled blood now dried to his chin. There were signs of a fight around the older man. His broken cane, a shattered lamp, and blood drops leading out of the room. But nowhere in the mess was Frank Chen's spirit.

He was too late.

SR*SR*SR

Detective Dinah Lance was on-call when another body dropped. She groaned after dispatch let her go, then untangled from the limbs of last night's fun. She showered quickly, to wash away the evidence of her nightly promiscuity. Skipped a late breakfast but grabbed coffee to go. After a short mental debate, she scribbled out a note to her one-night stand. Then she retrieved her service weapon from her safe, clipped on her shield, and met her partner outside her apartment. Hilton drove and brought her up to speed on what they had so far, which amounted to nothing much.

A dead man in a seedy motel in an equally seedy part of town. Dinah could already see the case going one of two directions. Either a slam-dunk, done by noon because the killer was a first-time, heat of passion idiot. Or a cold case that gave her and Lucas headaches as they tried to scrape up any kind of evidence or lead. Dispatch had said nothing about a witness, so Dinah was leading towards the latter. Then she spotted the unfortunate sop who discovered the body. She wanted to groan.

"Is that Thomas Merlyn?" Lucas questioned as he parked the car.

"Looks like it. Mind if I start the interview, since we already have a rapport?"

"Go ahead. I'll check in with CSU, see if we have an ID yet."

Dinah thanked the patrolman watching Tommy. Then she scowled at the prophet as soon as they were alone. He didn't look all that happy to see her either. "We meet again, Dr. Merlyn. Care to tell me what you conveniently stumbled across this time?"

"The man there, Frank Chen, he was an old friend of my mom's. He heard about her death and had come to pay his respects. I stopped by today to check on him and found him as he was."

"Any idea who might've wanted to kill Mr. Chen?"

"No. He was Mom's friend not mine."

"And do you have an alibi for your whereabouts last night?"

"I'm staying at the Queens', I was there all night. They'll vouch to that."

Dinah didn't ask why he wasn't living at his family's manor. She knew from Oliver via Laurel that the Merlyn men had a tense, estranged relationship. She was about to ask Merlyn for the unfiltered truth when Lucas joined them. When Dinah continued to question him on mundane details, having him walk through his story again, Tommy caught on. He didn't bring up the other worlds once. Hilton had some of his own questions for Tommy, those of a more personal nature, and he really pressed for details on how well Merlyn knew the victim. Tommy kept to Chen being a friend of his mom's and not one he knew well. That didn't appease Lucas who was brusquer with Merlyn than he normally was with witnesses.

Once it became clear Tommy had no more details for them, Lucas agreed to send him home. Dinah told her partner she'd catch up in a minute and walked Merlyn to his car. "We both know there's more going on here," Dinah commented, and Tommy shrugged noncommittally; "Well, you have my number. Call me if you change your mind."

She let Merlyn leave and tracked down her partner. He was poking around the murder scene, looking for any clues the CSIs might've missed.

"Want to tell me what that was about?"

"Frank Chen," Lucas looked over at her from where he was lifting up a paper slip with his pen; "Frank used to be a detective at my old precinct. One of the best until a shoot-out ruined his leg. Heard he became a private investigator. He shouldn't've gone out this way. When it's one of our own, we take off the kid gloves. You'll see."

"If Chen was a PI, maybe he was working on a case that got him killed," Dinah speculated. Hilton knew nothing of the other worlds and she intended to keep him in the dark.

"Maybe. Merlyn seem off to you?"

"No," Dinah replied, perhaps too quickly; "I heard his mom died less than a month ago. This was all probably too much." Lucas still frowned as he walked over to her.

"First an assault, now a dead body. All in a few weeks. Merlyn's had quite the streak lately."

"You think Merlyn might be more involved than he said?"

"It's a possibility until we rule him out. Remember, we can't be too hasty in our assumptions."

"Understood. Just so long as you don't take me tilting at windmills," Dinah quirked a grin. Merlyn's alibi had better turn out solid, because she doubted the green bean would hold up well in a real interrogation. Great, she might have to protect the prophet from her partner. As if her life wasn't complicated enough.

SR*SR*SR

Lyla was checking on an order for a client when the front door chimed; "Just a minute!" she called. Then she quickly confirmed the order and hung up. She pushed aside the curtain hiding the back of her shop from the front and stepped behind the counter. She cocked her head to the side at the man perusing her incense sticks.

"So, this is the Wick and Jar," Tommy offered her an amiable smile; "Sorry to bother you at work. Your neighbor told me you own the place."

"What can I do for you, Mr. Merlyn?" she had an idea which neighbor had ratted her out and they'd be having a talk when she returned home.

"I was hoping you might have a way to, ah, cure me," Tommy said, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Cure you?"

"My visions, I want them to stop, permanently."

"Mr. Merlyn, Tommy, I can't help you. You're a prophet now. That can't be reversed."

"Is there nothing you can do to help?"

"No," she shook her head regretfully; "What you are, that comes from a power far beyond my own. I know it's hard right now, suddenly being thrust into a world you know nothing about. It will get better, but you're going to have to accept what you are first."

She knew the difficulties of what he was going through. The desire to return to a normal life. She'd suffered the same phase in her early teens when her magic manifested. Tommy ran a hand through his hair. This wasn't the news he was hoping to hear.

"Why should I believe you? Like you said, I can't trust anyone who deals in the other worlds."

"I have no reason to lie to you about this. Besides, you saved my husband and my son, I owe you a debt."

"Thea and Oliver, they're practically my family, and you're telling me I can't trust them anymore," Tommy gestured wide in frustration.

"They were your family. Now she's a hunter and he's an angel. Hunters' ways are shrouded in mystery, but they're the creatures that hunt otherworldlies down and cut off our heads. Angels aren't like their biblical counterparts; they're imperfect, manipulative, and sometimes just as self-serving as demons. Associating with either of them will paint a larger target on your back. I gave you that warning to try and save you from some pain. It's up to you who you trust."

Lyla didn't bother reminding him of how her own past had nearly destroyed her family. He'd been a witness to that drama. The less he involved himself in otherworldly business, the better off he'd be. Unfortunately, Lyla doubted prophets had much choice in the matter.

Tommy left, no happier with his situation than when he'd arrived. Lyla wished she could've helped him. He appeared to be a respectable, compassionate man, yet this journey was his own to take. She couldn't carry his burdens for him.

She had a feeling though, this wasn't the last she'd seen of Dr. Merlyn.

SR*SR*SR

Oliver was behind the bar, preparing for the evening rush when Tommy dropped in. Oliver had been alone in the bar, so he'd ditched his shades. Now that Tommy knew the truth, he felt no pressure to wear his cover. Oliver tossed the dishrag he was using over his shoulder and strolled down to his friend. "You look like you could use a drink."

"I need a whole lot more than a drink, but I don't think alcohol will solve my problems."

"A vision?" Oliver asked, and Tommy's scowl confirmed; "Did it have anything to do with why you skipped out on breakfast this morning?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Oliver."

Oliver shrugged. He pulled out two glasses and a bottle of scotch. He poured them both a finger, then slid Tommy's glass in front of him. Tommy stared at the glass for a whole minute, then downed the entire shot. Oliver refilled his drink. "Was it the listener?" Tommy's head jerked back to gaze at Oliver in shock.

"How did you?"

"Thea heard on the grapevine that a listener had been killed."

"Thea has a grapevine? What is it, 'the Otherworldly Facebook'?"

"She has otherworldlies who feed her information to stay on her good side. But that's not the point. If you had a vision of the listener's death, there was a reason for it. You need to see it through."

"I'm not interested," Tommy grumbled and sipped form his drink.

"Then tell me what you know, and I'll handle it."

"Why?"

"Because you're not ready, but someone has to. Prophets exist to protect this world and those who call it home."

Oliver would give Tommy as much time as he could to adjust to his new truths. Eventually, Tommy would have to assume the responsibilities of a prophet. Oliver wasn't going to push him into the role before he could handle the work. He didn't want to scare his friend.

Tommy debated internally, then told Oliver what Frank Chen had told him about the important chest in the trunk of his car and the keys hidden in the room. "Did he say where he parked his car?"

"On an old ley line, I think. Oh, and he said the key was 'unseen but heard'. Seemed important, he repeated the key a couple of times."

Oliver was sure Frank had if a ley line was involved. He'd been hoping to handle this case alone, but it looked like he'd have to involve Thea after all. His kind didn't mix well with old earth magic.


	3. Part Three

Disclaimer: I don't own Arrow or DC comics and I'm not making any money off this.

Reviews offering constructive criticism are appreciated. Also, my investigative/medical knowledge is pretty much limited to what I see on TV, so if I get something wrong, tell me and please let me know how to correctly portray the events. Thanks!

* * *

Part Three

Dinah resisted the desire to cringe as she neared the Queen mansion. Memories, both pleasant and bittersweet, bounced about in the back of her mind. Laurel grew restless, subliminally aware. Dinah prodded her landlady back into a deeper sleep. She'd been having to do that a lot more recently, another aggravation Dinah laid at the prophet's feet. Including this off-the-books visit.

When Dinah found herself counting to ten to let go of the wheel, she snarled in disgust at her reaction. Oliver and the hunter weren't even present; she would've sensed them otherwise. There was nothing in the mansion to fear, only memories from another life which she cared nothing about. Nothing. She stomped up to the front door. Rapped on the wood. Waited impatiently with a tapping foot. Then cursed internally when Moira Queen answered.

"Laurel?" Moira blinked, Dinah's blonde hair distracting her for a minute; "How nice to see you."

"You as well," Dinah forced a pleasant smile onto her face; "I'm sorry to come so late. Afraid I'm here on official business." She tapped her shield.

"Of course, come in," Moira gestured. Dinah nodded and crossed the threshold.

Between an angel and a hunter, one of them should've talked to their mother about granting entrance to their home. Even with Moira in the dark, the risk was too great. Dinah may not have needed permission but there was a selection of otherworldly nasties who did. Not her problem though.

Dinah explained she was there to see Merlyn. Moira graciously offered to show her the way to Tommy's guest room. Dinah would've preferred to walk alone, but practiced polite manners, the way Laurel would've. The slightly awkward air between them only grew worse when Moira inquired about her life.

"My sister's dead. My dad spends most of his days at the bottom of a bottle. And I catch murderers for a living. My life's great. How's yours?"

Moira recoiled as if slapped. She'd never met the sharp side of Dinah's tongue. Laurel had certainly never been so harsh. Moira, though, she'd always been kind to Laurel. She wore her heart of her sleeve. She didn't deserve such hostility. Dinah felt a twinge of guilt.

"I'm sorry about your father and sister. I don't think there are words to express how much I regret what happened," Moira would've continued, but Dinah stopped her; "You have nothing to apologize for, Moira. I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. Being back here, just brings up a lot of difficult memories."

Moira nodded in understanding, quietly accepting the apology. They said nothing else until they reached Tommy's room. Dinah repressed the urge to grit her teeth. She didn't care what people thought of her or their precious feelings. Yet she had to play polite for professional reasons – that was all. Moira wished her well at the door. Dinah returned the platitudes, half-sincere, and thanked her. Her smile wasn't forced.

Seconds after rapping on the door, Merlyn answered. He poked his head out and blinked in surprise; "Dinah?"

"That's Detective Lance to you," she snipped at him. He could take the heat.

"What can I do for you, Detective?" he asked coolly, and warily. Good, he was learning.

"You're alibi checked out, Dr. Merlyn. I'm here for some follow up questions. Standard procedure."

"Where's your partner?"

"Divide and conquer. First forty-eight hours of a case are critical," she explained, though that was hardly the full truth.

She asked him a few more routine questions, lulling him into a false hope. Then she stopped pretending. "Cut the bull, Merlyn. Tell me what really happened."

Tommy worked his jaw, contemplating a denial no doubt, but then he sighed and told her the truth: "I only met Frank yesterday. He came to my mom's clinic looking for her. Said the voices had told him she was dead. Claimed to be a listener."

"Did you see his murder?"

"No, I saw the body and where to find it. His spirit said there were things he wanted to tell me, but there wasn't time left. Didn't say anything about his killer."

"Did you see anything to suggest this was otherworldly-related?"

"No, at least I don't think so. Chen did mention working with Mom on otherworldly cases."

"Anything else you can think of?" she inquired, but Tommy shook his head.

She could tell he was holding something back; he really was a terrible liar. She debated not pressing him. She certainly had enough to build off from for the moment. Besides, she was impressed at his duplicity. Clearly, he'd picked up the first tenant of otherworldly business – never tip your hand.

Now was an excellent time for another lesson – she wasn't a woman to be trifled with.

"What did you tell Oliver that you don't want to tell me?"

"Are you following me?" Tommy demanded. Dinah snorted; "I don't need to, to know Queen's the first person you'd go to for help."

She had to push him, but eventually he told her about the keys and chest. He assured her Oliver was handling whatever secrets Chen left behind. Dinah wasn't interested so long as the information wasn't related to why the listener had been killed. Oliver had enough sense to tell her if it was, so she let Tommy off the hook. She did give him one more biting remark before she left.

"Your visions are your responsibility, Merlyn, not Oliver's. You don't have to like it, but you do have to accept it. So, suck it up and do your part before you get someone killed."

SR*SR*SR

Breaking into a crime scene was neither the hardest thing Thea had ever done nor the most illegal. Since they weren't all that concerned with the police knowing they'd been there, they cut the tape. They wore caps and gloves and all black. Ollie could've simply winged them inside, but they didn't want to disturb any psychic or magical residuals. (Ollie hated it when she called his apporation ability 'winging' but not nearly as much as when she called it apparating.)

In the hotel room, Ollie could sense the violence recently perpetrated on top of older scars. Thea couldn't scent anything, which ruled out otherworldly beings but not magical. The crime scene remained a mess, probably an even worse mess now that the techs had been through swabbing and sampling everything for clues. They'd been thorough, Thea could see, which made her wonder if they shouldn't be B&E'ing the police station instead.

"No, they didn't find any keys," Ollie answered when she voiced her opinion aloud. She didn't bother to ask how he knew. Ollie had his sources, the same as her.

They started their own search in the ransacked room. They rechecked the chair cushion, mattress, floor, and ceiling tiles. Even the vent was a bust. As she climbed off the chair, Thea looked around, wondering where they could try next. "Maybe we're going about this the wrong way."

"What do you mean?" Ollie looked up from the headboard he was checking.

"Tommy said the listener gave him a key, didn't he?"

"Unseen, but heard," Ollie supplied.

"Well, maybe that key applies here too."

They paused and listened. Dogs barked outside. A car backfired. Thea closed her eyes and listened harder. Electricity thrummed from the Royal Flush sign. Someone started the shower on the floor below. A toilet flushed.

"The bathroom!" Thea snapped her fingers. Ollie caught on quickly.

She checked the shower first, Ollie the sink. Water in the pipes – unseen but heard. The toilet was their last stop. Neither one of them wanted to grab the plunger, but then Ollie decided to check the tank. With the top removed, they found the keys taped inside in a plastic bag. Thea victoriously peeled them out and they snuck outside as unseen as they'd entered.

They had a reliable timetable of Chen's last movements. They'd estimated how far the old listener could've walked after hiding his car and found only one portion of the ley line in the vicinity. Ollie drove. Thea sprawled in his front seat. As far as nighttime excursions went, this was very tame for her – the neferi had been more fun.

"Why isn't Tommy here? This would be a good toe-dip in the deep end for him."

"He's not ready."

Thea snorted, very unladylike; "No one's ready for this reality. Letting him fight this won't do you any good. Better to just rip the band-aid off before one of us gets killed."

"Because that worked so well for you," Ollie drawled. Thea grimaced; "We can't all transition like you."

Ollie's eyes flashed bright and Thea knew she'd hit a nerve, but Ollie said nothing. There were days she missed her brother, the real Oliver. Ollie had the face, most of the mannerisms, and the memories, but there were depths to him now which she didn't recognize. Sometimes, all she saw was the angel, not her brother. And she knew there were nights he only perceived the hunter in her. The important thing was they had each other's backs, just as they'd have Tommy's once he stopped living in denial.

They stopped the car a good quarter mile from the old ley line. Thea scouted the railway tracks that ran parallel to the line. This was old human magic, Thea could feel the stuff in her blood. The kind of power that had birthed the first prophets and hunters, even the listeners to a degree. Deadly to otherworldly beings like Ollie, troublesome to half-breeds, but a safe haven to humans and super-humans alike.

"I couldn't see any place the old man might've hidden a car down there," Thea groused when she returned to Ollie. She'd tried standing in the ley, wishing for the car to be revealed, but the magic didn't work like that.

"You're not supposed to look, remember? The key is unseen but heard."

Thea returned to the tracks. She collected a handful of rocks along the way per Ollie's suggestion. Then she played a version of Battleship, walking up and down the ley line. She tossed a rock about waist-height every couple of feet. Nothing, nothing, more nothing. Then a rock clanged against metal, bouncing back at her midair. Thea tossed another rock in the same area. The pebble skittered along an unseen roof. Thea smirked. Gotcha.

SR*SR*SR

"Dr. Merlyn," a voice called Tommy, forcing him to look around the wharf. He'd been wandering since the early afternoon, lost in his thoughts and visions. Now he spotted John Diggle walking his way. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and politely greeted Lyla's husband with a handshake.

"How'd you find me out here?"

"I had business on this side of town," John shrugged and looked around for anyone who might overhear. Deciding they were safe, he tapped his nose; "Caught your scent and followed it here."

The curiosity in Tommy wanted to ask how John's abilities worked. Which parts of werewolf mythology were true, and which were exaggerations. For starters, he knew John preferred to be called a lycan or shapeshifter, and that he could heal from a knife wound far faster than the average human. The rational part of Tommy's mind reminded him he wanted nothing to do with the supernatural. That he was looking for a cure, not a course.

"I wanted to thank you again, for saving me and my boy. If there's anything I can do to help," John continued with a grateful smile.

"Not unless you know a way to reverse this," Tommy grinned sardonically, knowing the answer. John gave him a sympathetic smile.

"Lyla told my you stopped by her shop, that you're having a tough time adjusting."

"Didn't you?" Tommy asked.

"I had a pack to watch my back, help me transition." Tommy didn't ask about the past tense. Not a story he wanted to know, he could easily guess.

"Hard to lean on anyone when I can't trust them," Tommy pointed out and John nodded; "This life is harsh with a rough learning curve for newcomers. Lyla was trying to look out for you based on her own experiences, but all of our stories are different."

"What do you suggest?" Tommy was interested. John seemed upbeat and well-adjusted to his life. To be fair, so had Lyla, when not battling witches trying to destroy her family.

"Alliances, until you find those you know you can trust to watch your back. Find people whose motives ring true to you but accept their secrets might turn them against you some day and plan what you'll do then."

"You sound like you've talking from experience."

"I am. Lyla and I have a few friends we trust, conditionally, and more alliances that keep us safe, most of the time. But that's only an idea. You need to do what you feel is right for you. Lyla and I will help you where we can. Trust your instincts and listen to what isn't said as much as what is."

"Thanks, Diggle," Tommy had more to think on now, even if he didn't want to. John's offer made him feel less alone.

"Though I would warn you to avoid any otherworldly societies or groups, especially the ones that call themselves courts, coalitions, circles, or covens."

SR*SR*SR

 _ **Four Years Ago**_

 _The storm they clipped on the edge chased after them. Oliver heard his father muttering low curses as he ordered Oliver and Sara to strap in again. Robert tried to break them clear of the severe weather once more. Sara took the storm is stride, having built up confidence after her first exposure. They joked about the storm having a mind of its own, as if it wanted to swat them from the sky. The wind buffeted the plane hard, but Robert wasn't deterred, only frustrated. After a while, the turbulence calmed down to a more manageable amount. Oliver decided to hit the head before the next bumps hit. He left Sara dozing in her seat and headed to the back of the cockpit._

" _Son, that you?" Robert called as Oliver clanked the bathroom door open._

" _Yeah, I'll only be a few minutes," he promised, hearing the strain in his dad's voice._

" _Join me when you're through."_

"' _Kay," Oliver agreed._

 _A small shake sent Oliver careening into the side wall. He grunted and found himself peering through one of the windows. Dark clouds boiled to the side of the plane and beneath them. It was actually rather impressive. He called to Sara and told her to look. As he peeled back, to continue his mission, he saw a brilliant flash of light streak from the clouds toward the plane. It looked so close, like it barely missed the wing tip. Oliver waited for a clap of thunder. None came. He didn't wonder why, his bladder reinforcing its message._

 _Oliver had just locked himself in the tinny bathroom when the plane buckled._

SR*SR*SR

Thea found him in his borrowed room. Tommy was researching a hospital where a former professor had suggested he apply for an open position in general medicine. Thea flounced in without knocking, then perched on the edge of the desk. She dangled a set of keys before him when he acknowledged her presence.

"The protection magic of the ley line will need a couple days to wear off, then you'll be able to see the car. Ollie and I moved it to a secure storage where we keep stuff we can't bring home. These keys will get you in," she explained, setting them next to him.

"I thought Oliver was handling what Chen hid?"

"We did. We collected his car and the goodies before someone less savory did. The contents, though, are your responsibility, not ours."

Tommy grumbled silently to himself. He didn't appreciate all the responsibilities being thrust in his lap for a job he didn't want. First, Lyla begged him to take the _concurret orbis_ , a powerful relic that rippled with darkness when he looked at it. Supposedly, the thing was safer in his protection from the dark witches who wanted it. Now they wanted him to protect the secrets of a dead man. Secrets that may have gotten him killed.

"You know your approach might work better if you didn't drop-and-go," Tommy commented archly. When Thea raised her eyebrows, he elaborated; "You keep pushing me to accept these abilities, but you don't bother to teach me anything about the other worlds."

"I push, because I've done some reading. Apparently, prophets and hunters work better in tandem. You see trouble before it comes, and I cut off its head. Makes both our jobs easier, but I can't teach you if you're not willing to learn."

"Haven't you ever tried to walk away?"

"I tried once," Thea smiled bitterly; "Learned I can't. Wouldn't now, even if I could. I have the power to help people, doing nothing is the most selfish thing I could do."

Her words stung, though Tommy reflected they weren't meant as a judgement of him. Thea wasn't so callous. That was her personal philosophy about herself. Yet helping people was supposed to be his profession.

"Look, I understand," Thea continued ruefully; "I had a tough time adjusting when I was called, but the minute you stop trying to fight it, the easier things get."

The hunters were called, not awakened. Theirs was a duty that would get them killed. Thea had explained that much to him about their differences. She refused to divulge more until he was ready to listen. Tommy watched her leave, frustrated. Everyone kept telling him to listen, but listening was all he seemed to be doing.

SR*SR*SR

"We've got DNA," Lucas announced, holding up the lab report; "CSU says the blood samples leading out of the room matches skin samples found under Frank's nails."

"Any matches in the system?" Dinah asked, looking up from her computer. Hilton sighed; "No, but when we do get a suspect, all we'll need is a warrant for a sample and then we'll have a rock-solid case."

"Well, I may have a lead on the suspect-front," Dinah gestured to her partner to look at her screen; "The Royal Flush may not have had cameras on the rooms, but they did have one on the entrance to their parking lot to watch the office. See this SUV here," she pointed to the black vehicle as it rolled across the screen; "I found the same vehicle in the clinic's security cameras, at the same time Chen was visiting Merlyn."

When she explained how the SUV was the only vehicle to arrive and leave in the timeframe of Chen's death, Hilton was convinced; "You send this down to TARU to get a better look at the license plate?"

"I did. They got back to me. It looks like the SUV is registered to a rental agency."

"Name and address?" Lucas asked. Dinah nodded; "Then let's go, Lance."


	4. Part Four

_Usual disclaimers apply._

* * *

Part Four

Tommy picked at his makizushi. The sushi was great, Yamashiro's always was, but he wasn't as in the mood for the rolled sushi as he'd thought. He took a sip of his sake and peered around the restaurant. He sat at the bar with two men in business suits, both typing away on their phones, a bald man who ate with enough gusto to make up for the other two's disinterest, and a nerdy woman in glasses and a pink sweater. There were tables and booths around and behind him, most full and filling the air with idle chatter.

A pretty brunette sat in a corner booth with several friends. Tommy noticed her several times and once she caught his eye, she winked. He smiled appreciatively. For half a minute he considered braving her friends to get to her. Then he thought again. The last beautiful woman to flirt with him and given him her number turned out to be a demon. Better not to take the risk. For all his luck, the brunette would be a succubus or something.

Tommy spotted a former acquaintance out on a date with a bottle blonde who vaguely looked like a model. Max Fuller was the acquaintance, called Don Max by friend and foe. He was an even bigger playboy than Oliver and had a talent for catching the most alluring of women. Max raised his glass when he noticed Tommy and Tommy returned the salute. As Fuller set his drink down, for half-a-second Tommy would've swore he saw another face underneath Max's, something pale and horned. He blinked, and the image was gone. Great, now he was seeing monsters inside of old friends.

He downed the rest of his sake. Decided he needed something stronger before bed. Maybe then he wouldn't talk to dead men in his sleep. Tommy found his wallet and plucked out a hundred. He didn't stick around for the change. The pretty brunette flashed him a disappointed smile. Fuller had stepped away from his gorgeous date for a minute. Tommy pushed the glass door open and stepped outside into the cool night air. He tugged out a scarf as he felt an extra chill run down his neck, then stuffed his hands in his pockets. There was a bar a block away. Not Oliver's but it would do.

The sidewalks were mostly empty. Majority of people in the middle of their work week. No time to relax, take a stroll. Cars rolled along intent on their destinations. Tommy soaked in the city life. So vastly different from the open skies and tent fields where he'd lived for the past year. Peaceful, despite its own set of dangers. Home.

"Hey Tommy, hold up," Max called from behind him.

Tommy turned to greet Fuller. His words died on his lips. This time there was no mistaking the face. Pasty white skin, crimson eyes, and slits for a nose. Pointed, black goat horns on the top of his head and a black goatee. Then the monstrous face vanished, and Max's handsome face smiled at him. Tommy's instincts told him to run, but Fuller's grin held him in place. "Ah, such a shame. I've always liked your smile."

"What?" Tommy wrinkled his brow. He needed to do something, what was it? Run, that was it. Why? Max clapped him on the arm.

Tommy could feel the head of Fuller's hand even through his coat. It was like a zing of electricity passed through him as Max maintained his hold. Tommy felt certain nether regions stirring and tried to fight this unexpected desire as well as a blush. Tommy knew he was very much a straight man but couldn't explain why he was so turned-on. Max failed to notice, smiling jovially as he continued to talk. Tommy forgot the reason he was supposed to run away.

"I'd heard there was a new prophet in town. Thought it was all rumors of course, until I saw you tonight. Man, such a shame."

Tommy blinked. Certain he'd heard wrong. At first, he thought there must've been something in his sake, because he was suddenly feeling woozy and Max wasn't making much sense. Then the feeling grew, and Tommy could practically feel the life-force being drained out of him. A distant part of Tommy realized Max was the cause. He didn't care though. He was very aroused and content to watch Fuller's moving lips.

"What are you? What are you doing to me?" Tommy asked, curious but not concerned. Max had to hold him up with two hands now as Tommy's feet were buckling under him. Max didn't seem to mind. "I am sorry about this, Merlyn. You're such a nice guy, but I know how this works. It's me or you and I chose me."

Tommy agreed, a dopey smile on his lips. He leaned into Max. He wanted at least one taste before the dark spots consumed him.

SR*SR*SR

Angel-radar. That was what Thea liked to call his ability to sense danger. In his pure form, he could watch over hundreds of humans. Aware of every type of danger from a stubbed toe to the mortal-ending kind, like natural disasters. Hosted, the number of lives he could protect was drastically reduced to a mere dozen. And, though he could still sense the minor pains, they were rarely worth the headache they produced when tracking.

Deciding who to limit his attention to, that was the easiest and hardest thing he had to do. He wanted to help every sorry soul who crossed his path, but his body was only human at the base. He stuck to his immediate family and dearest friends, protecting most unaware. There were somethings he couldn't sense – regular human illnesses, cancer, and natural deaths being examples. The entire year Tommy was abroad, Oliver had to grit his teeth and remember he couldn't pop up half the world away and disappear again without begging questions.

When Oliver felt the fluctuation that Tommy was in danger, he relied on ingrained habit and ignored the warning. When the mild irritant turned into a hot, stabbing blade, he fretted. Then he recalled his old restrictions no longer applied. He followed the pain to the source and winged his way there. In two blinks of the eye, he traveled from his bedroom to a sidewalk downtown.

He figured out the situation in a heartbeat. He reacted in the next. The otherworldly sapping the life out of Tommy sensed Oliver a half-beat too late. The otherworldly half-turned and for a second, Oliver saw the mask of Max Fuller. Then his scythe of light severed Max's head from his shoulders. Twin bursts of high energy and the body parts vaporized. A glance around revealed several witnesses, but they couldn't see him as he'd arrived under a mirage. A small tweak to the mirage would convince them anything they saw was a trick of the light as he now appeared to be Max Fuller.

"Easy there," Oliver caught Tommy before he fell; "Let's get you to your car."

Oliver had to pick the keys from Tommy's pocket, then hauled his friend over to the passenger seat. Tommy snapped out of the thrall quickly enough and regained control of certain bodily reactions. He remained as weak as a kitten, his body drained of almost all its life-energy. Oliver silently cursed himself. If he'd reacted even a second slower, Tommy would be dead. He needed to keep a better eye on his friend.

"What, what happened?" Tommy slumped in his seat, hands holding his head. Oliver paused on his way to the driver's side; "You just met your first incubus. He drained you, a little more and you would've died."

"I feel like I could sleep a hundred years."

"A good night's sleep and plenty of food are the best cures to an incubus or succubus attack," Oliver mentioned. Tommy would likely feel the after-effects for weeks, but sleep and food really were the only ways to recover the lost life-energy. Oliver wished he could do more, but even in his true form his healing powers couldn't help this.

They drove in silence back to the Queen mansion. Tommy didn't ask how Oliver knew he was in danger or how he arrived in the nick of time. Oliver half-expected his friend to conk out and that he'd have to carry Tommy to bed – not an easy feat since he lacked Thea's strength, but not impossible as he kept in shape. As he parked the car though, Tommy spoke.

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"The lies I've told you over the years, they were to keep you safe. I know I'm not the Oliver you used to know, but I am still your friend. I want to protect you and help you train your abilities to help others."

"What do you get out of this?"

"The chance to sleep easier at night, knowing I helped make this world a little better." Tommy snorted, but it was the truth with a few minor omissions. Tommy didn't need to know the whole truth, only one person besides Oliver knew that and the person wasn't Thea.

"How do I know your secrets won't come after me to get to you?"

"Some might try, but I'll know about them early enough to warn you."

"I suppose I'm not going to get a better offer than that."

"No," Oliver agreed sympathetically; "Would you like me to help you inside?"

"Please," Tommy sighed after failing to even unbuckle himself.

The truth changed things. Oliver believed they could remain friends and this was a good first step. They needed each other, whether Tommy realized it or not; the other worlds devoured those who tried to survive alone.

SR*SR*SR

Dinah sipped her coffee as she arrowed to the next mugshot. The rental company hadn't been the jackpot of information she hoped for. The renter had paid in cash with a fake ID. While that certainly confirmed something fishy was afoot, they needed more to get a conviction. Starting with a name.

Hilton had speculated the killer might hold a personal grudge against Chen. With no better leads – Chen had no active PI cases to investigate – they began reviewing the criminals Chen had put away as a detective and hate-mail he'd received as a private investigator. Dinah volunteered to continue slogging through the old cases while her partner grabbed lunch. She wasn't being thoughtful; she liked to work alone. That and she had a sense for violence; just looking at a picture, she could tell what carnage a perp had been up to lately. She found their killer easily.

When she heard Lucas approaching, she scrolled to the previous picture. Pretended to study that photo. Then she jumped to the next. Lucas paused behind her as she held up the blown-up copy of the fake ID for comparison. "Well, I'll be," Hilton grumbled, setting down the food on Dinah's organized papers. She arched an eyebrow at the greasy mess, then at her partner. He didn't notice.

"You recognize him?"

"That's Jason Brodeur, a fence with a bad reputation as true as they come."

"Any history I need to worry about?" she asked. Lucas glanced at her and shook his head; "No, nothing like that. I've heard of the guy. They used to tell the stories at my old precinct about the many times Frank tried to bring Brodeur to justice and the one time he almost succeeded."

"Are we thinking a possible revenge of Moby Dick?" Lucas smirked at her poor choice of literary allusion. A habit she'd picked up from Quentin Lance. Luckily, Hilton didn't comment on it.

"Brodeur would certainly have the right motive. Frank caught him by flipping his mistress against him. His wife divorced him, he lost his legit business, and barely walked on a technicality. His life hasn't been near as luxurious since then."

"We've got him renting a SUV that followed Frank Chen around and was in the vicinity at the time of the murder. I'd say we have enough cause to bring him in for questioning."

"Get a current address, let's bring Brodeur to justice."

SR*SR*SR

There was a mound of dirt three rows down, six headstones to the right. Just another lost soul in a sea of the dead. Tommy looked down at his mom's new headstone. Her face had been etched into the granite. Smiling at him from beyond the grave. He kicked a clump of dirt as he finished telling her about Max Fuller being an incubus, well not all the embarrassing details that he didn't want to think about – he was still dead tired from the affair, dark circles under his eyes.

"I've got a job offer in San Francisco. I'm thinking of taking it. It's a good hospital with a friend from med school who's entirely human, I hope. Though Oliver and Thea assure me there will be plenty of otherworldlies wherever I go. . . I know that isn't the future you wanted for me, but then I'm not really sure I know you at all anymore," Tommy's tone took on a bitter quality and he scowled at the nearest tree.

If he closed his eyes, he could pretend she stood behind him, pressing a comforting hand to his shoulder. He could almost smell the floral scent she loved to wear. He looked down at her picture. Smiled sadly. Secrets or not, he'd known the real Rebecca Merlyn better than most. She would've given him answers if she'd had the chance.

He understood his mom. Just as he knew the real Oliver and Thea. As he knew where he belonged. Oliver was still the friend he could call at three am to ask for advice on what tie to wear to work. Thea was the little sister who would give him terrible dating suggestions and then laugh about it with him later. They were his family, his home. "Seattle's home, that's what you'd say. No matter how much I want to leave this place behind, I can't. Bet you knew I'd never take that job, even if I really wanted to."

"I met Frank Chen. He seemed like a nice guy. He's dead now, but you probably already know that too. . . I wish I could ask you about the key you left me. I even went to the manor to see if it unlocked anything there, no dice. What's the story behind it? Does it hold any answers?"

His mom's headstone remained silent. Tommy huffed. Of all the questions he had, the key hardly ranked on the list. It was frustrating, he was supposedly a prophet who could see the past, present, and future. He'd even spoken with the spirit of a dead man. Yet he couldn't talk to the one person he needed. What was the point of these powers then?

"I keep hoping to wake up and discover this is all a dream. Or that someone will come to me with a cure. I wish I could see you one last time. To hear your voice. To know what I'm supposed to do."

"Listen to your heart," Frank Chen materialized next to him. Tommy nearly jumped out of his skin.

"What? How? You're dead!"

"My spirit lingers while my killer roams free. Manifesting, like this, taxes me. So, listen, boy. I don't have the answers you seek, but you are now the key to saving all life on Earth. Your gifts are meant for saving lives, don't squander them. And find my journals, they'll help you understand what's coming."

"What's coming?" Tommy asked. Frank sighed, but before he could answer, he vanished.

SR*SR*SR

"JJ asleep?" his wife asked as John joined her in their living room.

"Out like a light before I finished the second chapter," John chuckled. They snuggled together on the couch.

The needles in the chair across from them knitted with invisible hands. The needles moved steadily, thoughtfully. If John hadn't known better, he would've thought nothing amiss. Only, he could smell the worry that clung to Lyla. He wrapped her protectively in his arms. He couldn't banish her fear, but he could make her feel safe for the moment.

"Why does it bother you, that I went to see Merlyn?"

"You know nothing is coincidental, not in our reality," she murmured after a pause; "The timing of when we met him is what concerns me. First, daughters of the night made a grab for the orbis. Then a new prophet awakens. And we were drawn together with four strangers to save our son and protect the orbis. Six is a potent number."

"Do you think it's an omen or a summoning?" he didn't understand or read magical signs the way she could, but he knew the basics – she'd taught them to him.

"I'm not sure. I'll have to commune with the ancestors the next new moon. I'm going to increase the warding around the house and build us all stronger amulets."

"We can always tell them to stay away. I know I'd rest easier if we kept well away from that angel and demon."

"I have a sense," and John knew she didn't mean a gut-sense, "this is going to be too big for us to ignore. I've never felt anything like this before." Lyla bit down on her lip, almost drawing blood.

John rubbed a hand up and down her arm. She relaxed again into his soothing touch. She learned her head against his shoulder. "We've got each other. We'll get through this," he promised, but they both knew the hope his words were built on wasn't stable. Still, they believed; "I wouldn't mind counting a hunter and prophet as allies. Though that comes with its own set of risks. Merlyn, at least, seems like a good man."

"He does," Lyla hummed; "But the good ones rarely last long in our reality."

John couldn't disagree with her on that. Still, he'd had enough fretting for the night. He shifted their positions on the couch and kissed his wife. They had to capture the sweet moments when they could.

SR*SR*SR

 _ **Four Years Ago**_

 _Moments. One moment he was in the air, trapped in the cramped bathroom. The next he was lying on his back, blood in his eyes, the sky far, far above him. The details came back to him in flashes; broken moments._

" _Brace yourselves!" Robert called over the intercom after the first buckle. The sound echoed for Oliver as he stood on the other side of the cockpit. Only there were no seatbelts, no way to brace in the bathroom. Oliver reached for the door handle. His fingers found the edge as the next quake hit._

 _His fingers slipped. His whole body tossed upward like a bouncy ball. He slammed his head against the ceiling. Then he landed hard on the toilet. Something splintered, a nasty sound. Oliver saw stars. His backside screamed._

 _Then he was chucked forward into the tiny sink. He grabbed onto either side and held tight just in time. He experienced weightlessness that made his extremities tingle. His stomach felt lodged in the wrong body part, like that feeling after the first big hill on a roller-coaster._

 _The screeching-whine assaulted him next. Made him want to clamp both hands on his ears. It hurt so bad, but he was still clinging to the sink. The sound brought tears to his eyes. Worse than nails on a chalkboard – the bellow of tons of metal sheered in half while plummeting at hundreds of miles per hour._

 _Oliver bounced and bounced in the tiny room. His grip slipped, and he continued to bounce. He smacked off every wall, the ceiling and floor. Something in him, no, several somethings, cracked. Then he must've hit his head extra hard or the pressure in his ears popped, because he blacked out._

 _He could smell burning fuel and wood in the distance now. There was a big hole in the bathroom door, a skylight he deduced. Oliver slumped on the opposite wall, staring listlessly up at the night sky. The stars were so pretty out here._

 _The pain hit him unexpectedly. It was everywhere, like fire licking across his body from the bones outward. Oliver groaned. There was one section more biting than the rest. He glanced down at his side. Saw a piece of bloody, fleshy metal jutting through him. He laughed._


	5. Part Five

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing but the made-up universe in which these borrowed players now dream.

 **A/N:** Final act to this episode. Next episode is written, but not fully typed and edited, so ETA is hopefully in the next two weeks.

* * *

Part Five

Hilton and Dinah let Brodeur and his attorney stew in interrogation. Brodeur had clammed up the moment they tried to question him and sent them to his lawyer. Rather than tip their hand, Lucas maintained they play along. Then the lawyer strung them out, insisting on a properly scheduled 'interview,' irking both detectives. Only when both men appeared impatient enough to storm out of the room did the detectives enter. The lawyer griped about the wait and with a sharp smile, Dinah apologized. Hilton liked for her to appear the good cop in the beginning and for him to radiate bad cop. They took their seats and Lucas charged ahead.

"Where were you, Mr. Brodeur, between 2:15 AM and 4:30 AM last Thursday?"

"At my apartment. Asleep," Brodeur answered neutrally. Dinah could tell from his micro-expressions he wanted to sneer but knew better. He had to play innocent after all. "Can anyone corroborate that?" she asked.

"My girlfriend, the doorman, probably even some of my neighbors," Brodeur shrugged.

"How about someone not on your payroll?" Hilton retorted.

"Detective," Brodeur's lawyer uttered warningly; "Are you planning to press charges against my client? If so, might you share why we're here?"

"Oh, I think you know," Lucas replied. Dinah quickly redirected the focus; "Say, Jason, may I call you Jason? How did you get that bandage on your arm?" she pointed to the noticeable lump under his sleeve.

"You don't have to answer that," the lawyer advised. Brodeur waved him off, leering at Dinah; "I cut it while cooking."

"Cooking what?" Hilton asked.

"Hmm?"

"What were you cooking, when you cut yourself?" Lucas repeated slowly, on the cusp of condescending.

"Capellini in a spicy zucchini-tomato sauce," Brodeur clipped, focusing on Hilton.

"Did you go to the ER?" Lucas wanted to know.

"No, I have my own on-call physician," Brodeur leaned arrogantly back in his chair. Lucas gave a short whistle, pretending to be impressed.

"Is there any relevance to this questioning?" the lawyer grumped.

"Relax, counselor. This isn't the courthouse. We're just having a nice chat," Hilton answered. Dinah took that as her cue to switch gears. "Do you recall a man named Frank Chen, Mr. Brodeur?"

"Don't answer that," the lawyer said tersely. Brodeur ignored the solid advice. Too confident in his plans. "Yes, I remember Detective Chen. I spent three years rebuilding my career and nearly ten in jail because of him. Why?"

"He's dead. And we have reason to believe you killed him," Hilton shrugged apologetically.

"Frank and I were ancient history."

"He took almost everything from you. Your wife, your mistress, your business. And you just let him go like that. If I were in your shoes, I would've wanted revenge," Dinah pushed an old picture of Frank in his dress blues before Brodeur.

"Well, that's not me. I made peace with my past. Moved on and put Frank Chen out of my mind," Brodeur replied against his lawyer's objections.

"Ever run into him since then?" Hilton asked innocently.

"No, haven't seen him in years," Brodeur responded automatically. Dinah would've smirked if it all hadn't felt so easy. She and Hilton were good at their jobs, but Brodeur was practically putty in their hands. Still, she kept the ball rolling.

"Funny, because that's not what this picture shows," she dropped a new photo between Brodeur and his lawyer; "See that's you here at a diner on Andrea Street. And there's Frank Chen." The picture clearly showed Brodeur staring at the back of Frank's head.

"I don't recall seeing him there," he was quick to deny.

"Odd, since that was the diner Frank frequented anytime he was in town, but well outside your usual west side," Hilton commented. Then Dinah pressed on before Brodeur could lie again on the subject; "There's also the fact you rented a black SUV, the very one spotted following Frank outside a clinic he visited and his motel room. The man at the rental shop identified you as the one he loaned the SUV to a week ago, the day Frank arrived, and says you returned it the morning after Frank died."

"Add in the very public threats you made against Detective Chen, vowing 'to get you later when you least expect it,' well, it wasn't hard to convince a judge to grant us an order compelling you to submit to a DNA test," Lucas finished with a cat-caught-canary grin.

"Detectives, I'd like a moment alone with my client."

"Take all the time you need," Dinah smirked. It wasn't going to do Brodeur any good, but it would give her time to figure out what else was going on.

SR*SR*SR

Tommy concluded he was definitely crazy, returning to the sushi bar where he'd almost died. He picked lunch this time, not dinner, for the false safety of daylight. He felt as if he was tempting fate. Testing to see if he could go one day without an otherworldly episode. Fate, apparently, had a good laugh.

"Dr. Merlyn, fancy meeting you here," Dinah Lance plopped into the booth across from him.

"What are you doing here?"

"I thought you'd like to know Jason Brodeur has been arrested for the murder of Frank Chen. He'll be going away for a long time."

"Okay, that's good to hear. But why did you track me down to tell me in person? Why not just let me hear about it on the news like everyone else?" Tommy asked as Dinah stole one of his nigiri.

"Maybe I was curious. Wanted to see how you're doing," she popped the shellfish and rice into her mouth.

"Why would you care about me?"

"You're a prophet. That makes you an important player in otherworldly affairs," she shrugged and tugged his drink towards her; "What?"

"You're a demon. Why are you a cop? What do you possibly get out of helping people?"

"Oh, don't throw a conniption. Your worldview of demons isn't about to be shattered. I'm not interested in saving any lives but my own. I'm purely self-serving. My shiny badge lets me keep a pulse on the threats in the city. Let's me stop the ones that would mess up my life."

"What threatens your life, beyond the hunter-kind?" he asked and scooted his plate closer to her as she went to steal yet another piece of his food.

"If you'd ever been to the dimension I come from, you'd understand. It really is a hell. Earth is an Eden compared to there and I have no desire to return or let this world be overrun by those who would make this place the same."

Out of everyone he'd talk to, Dinah was the most straightforward in her responses. She painted a very simple picture of herself and her wants. Yet she was the one he suspected of hiding the most. She smirked at him as if she could read his thoughts (a frightening thought he'd have to check with Oliver). "See ya around, Merlyn."

SR*SR*SR

2015\. 2016. 2017. Finally. Tommy stopped in front of the orange door. Thea said she and Oliver rented five consecutive lockers, starting from 2012. The car, she'd said, was in the last one. Tommy pulled out the keys she'd given him and hesitated. Oliver would've come, but the ley magic was still too strong for him. Thea was busy enough. Which left only Tommy. Both Queens insisted there might be time-sensitive materials. So, Tommy had come.

He wasn't here to embrace his destiny as everyone wanted him to. He'd come hoping for some answers, if not the ones he really sought. Now, he steeled himself for disappointment and opened the door. He had a moment of disorientation as everything from the wheels down on the car remained invisible – ley magic was apparently one of the few power sources his sight couldn't penetrate, good to know. Then he checked the front seat and the back. Found some old takeout wrappers, a loaded gun in the glove compartment, and a pair of stinky socks. He popped the trunk and found the real treasures of Frank Chen. This included a collection of archaic weapons, glass bottles of water (maybe), a chest with no obvious openings, and several stacks of leather-bound journals.

Tommy reached for the top journal, to take a quick peek. He instantly regretted that decision. A vision whammied him immediately.

He saw Helena Bertinelli laughing in madness. Wall-sized flames encircled her and him. Darkness shrouded their feet. Helena stretched her hands skyward. He looked up, beyond the flames. In a pink-blue night sky he saw the stars, but no moon, and six strings of light. At first, Tommy thought the lights were rips in the fabric of space; claw marks. Then they shifted, aligning. He saw they weren't strings but two-dimensional circles. And when they faced him, they looked like portals into exotic lands – other worlds he realized.

Each portal emitted a unique glow. The brightest was white, then a sharp, buttery yellow, and an emerald green. There was a nauseating brown, a sad gray, and leeching black. The white portal disappeared first, swallowed up by the yellow, then the green ate the yellow and so on until only the black remained. Helena shrieked with joy as the black light swirled closer. The ground beneath Tommy's feet trembled. He shook as the dark shroud drifted upward like a consuming fog. He sensed danger, evil, and an ancient hunger deep inside the shroud. He stumbled backward.

He lost contact with the journal and returned to his senses. He was back in the storage shed, quivering and gasping. The journals sat innocently in the trunk. Tommy mopped at his brow. What had he just seen?

SR*SR*SR

When Tommy Merlyn called the shop and asked her to say a few minutes late, Lyla wanted to tell him no. Her senses told her this was part of that bigger force she was aware of. She agreed to stay. Then she called her husband and let him know why she'd be late.

Ten minutes before Tommy was to arrive, John walked in. She was surprised, but not opposed to his support. He'd asked one of their neighbors to babysit JJ for a few hours, which Lyla hoped would be long enough. Tommy arrived on the dot, wearing gloves much too thick for the weather, and carrying a large duffle bag over his shoulder. He looked shaken.

"Look, I'm sorry to be dumping this on you, but you're a witch, so I figured this was a little more in your wheelhouse," he said and proceeded to describe the vision he'd had.

"Let me make you some tea, then we'll talk," Lyla guided Tommy to the table and chairs she kept in the back. His life-force felt weaker to her touch than it should've been. She added a little extra power to his cup to help restore him. She even gave John a cup, knowing he hated the brew, but would keep up appearances. She took a small sip to encourage Tommy to do the same.

"First, you should know not all visions should be taken literally. I know your sight is different than my magic, but the principles are the same."

"So, you think it's all metaphorical for something else?"

"Not necessarily. I suspect parts of it are. Fire, for example, is symbolic for creation and destruction as well as transformation. And darkness, well, you felt what it represents in your vision. The two combined sound like a warning of great danger; a threat to this world."

"And Helena?" John growled.

"Likely the mastermind behind the threat, but not alone. She has a coven, remember."

"What about the portals of light?"

"Doorways to the six main other worlds. What you described sounds like the Convergence," Lyla was proud of how she kept her fear out of her voice.

"The Convergence?"

"The other worlds exist parallel to each other, but also in constant motion relative to each other – that's why travel between them is so dangerous. Yet once, every few centuries, the six main other worlds align perfectly with the Earth in what is known as the Convergence. It lasts no more than an hour and all magic is supposedly supercharged in that time."

"It sounds super dangerous."

"They can be, but luckily, Convergences are rare and unpredictable."

"Well, I think Helena might know when the next Convergence is, and she wasn't the only one," Tommy pulled a journal out of his duffle bag. Still wearing his gloves, he flipped open the book to its first page; "I had that vision the moment I touched this journal."

The page he'd flipped to was covered in neat hanzi, though it wasn't any hanzi Lyla recognized. The bottom left corner contained a simplistic rendering of the Convergence: six black circles in a row with a dotted line through their centers; Earth was never included in the pictures as it was the focal point of the power. Hastily scrawled across the top of the page, so that the first line of hanzi were barely legible, was a numerical date. 03/20/13.

"Lyla, what does this mean?" John grabbed her hand to comfort her as ice filled her veins. This was so much worse than what she'd imagined.

"The dangers of the Convergence have always been limited because there were no warnings, no time to prepare any complex magic. An hour is hardly enough time to ready the spells either – but if Helena and her coven knows for certain this is the date of Convergence, they could harness the power for unimaginable horrors."

Even new to this reality, Lyla could see Tommy understood the peril. Her dismay was reflected in his eyes and her husband's.

SR*SR*SR

 _ **Four Years Ago**_

 _Oliver found himself sitting alone in the parlor at home. He wore casual jeans and a cotton shirt that was a touch snug. A grandfather clock ticked loudly out-of-sight. Oliver knew he was waiting for something, but he couldn't recall what._

" _This doesn't have to be the end, you know," Tommy said, appearing in the seat across from Oliver. Oliver shifted at his friend's sudden arrival, but he wasn't frightened. Everything here made complete sense, held comfort, even if he didn't understand._

" _What do you mean?" Oliver puzzled._

" _I think you know," Tommy answered, leaning back in his seat and crossing one leg over the other. Oliver thought about Tommy's words. Then the crash returned to him in snapshots._

" _I'm dying," he said in sad realization._

" _Yes."_

" _And you're here to save me, how?" Oliver wrinkled his brow. The complete-sense-ness of this place was wearing off with the knowledge it was all some mind-trick._

 _Tommy smiled coyly rather than answering Oliver. The truth occurred to Oliver after a moment's consideration; "You're not really Tommy, are you?"_

" _No, I'm not. I thought you'd be more comfortable with a familiar face and who better than your best friend."_

" _Who are you?"_

" _I'm called Zeviel, though the better question would've been, what am I? The answer, by the way, is an angel."_

 _Oliver barked out a laugh. "I suppose you're here to take me to heaven? Or to hell?"_

" _Neither. You're not dead yet. I'm here to offer you a deal."_

 _Oliver waited patiently for the angel to continue. The pain of reality started to seep in._

" _I need a host to interact with the humans on your world. Give me seven years of your life and I will give you back your future," Zeviel leaned forward, intently, still wearing Tommy's face. His expression wasn't one Tommy had ever worn before – though Oliver couldn't think of a name for what he saw._

 _Oliver considered the offer. His options very limited, to take the deal or die. The decision was simple in the end. He wasn't ready to die. He agreed to the terms. Not-Tommy's eyes flashed a brilliant white. He reached forward with a glowing hand and touched Oliver's chest, right above his heart._

 _Molten light coursed through Oliver's veins, cutting off his breath. As their joining began, he caught glimpses of Zeviel's memories. For a heartbeat, Oliver Queen burned with anger. He understood then how this kind of angel wasn't a perfect creature but entirely capable of human foibles and wickedness. He saw the truth and regretted his choice. The anger faded, and acceptance took its place as the joining finished. Then they were one mind, one goal. To save._

SR*SR*SR

The rooftop used to be a teen hang-out before the building was condemned and sealed off. Oliver easily navigated the mire of empty beer cans, wasted condoms, and broken chairs. Dinah waited at the edge, one foot on the ledge as she watched the traffic one street over. Not much happened on the road below them. Oliver stopped a yard away from her, his shoes brushing the edge as he watched her. Dinah cocked her head to the side and arched an eyebrow.

"You stole some of Chen's journals. You're lucky I was able to hide your scent before Thea found it or she'd be hunting you down."

"I can take your sister," Dinah arched her back lazily; "Besides, you should thank me. I took the journals the green bean isn't ready for and some of them held secrets about you that you wouldn't want known."

Oliver declined to thank her. Instead he glanced over the city, feeling flutters of danger on his conscience against the backdrop of a constant mortal threat. Dinah smirked, he caught it out of the corner of his eye.

"Do they know yet, what's coming?" she asked after a pregnant wait.

"Not yet, but they know when."

Dinah nodded. She shifted to face Oliver, both feet on the roof, and he looked at her; "The night coven sent Brodeur. They cut any connections that might lead back to them, but I felt the residue of their manipulations on his mind. They wanted Chen dead before he could endanger their plans."

"Do they suspect what Tommy is?"

"Not now, but word is getting around. Soon they'll put two and two together."

"Dinah," Oliver moved closer, regret and longing in his eyes. She took a half-step back.

"Don't. I'm not going to change my mind. We'll fix this problem, like we agreed, then we're done."

Oliver went to object but saw the anger in her taunt frame. He nodded sadly, resigned. She looked away and breathed slowly until she calmed. Then she asked; "How's Merlyn coping?"

"He's getting there," Oliver shrugged, and Dinah scoffed.

"You need to push him harder. We need him ready when the time comes."

"I'll get him there."

"You'd better, because if he isn't, then we're doing things my way."

She didn't need to elaborate. Oliver knew very well the plan she favored; the bloody, equally dangerous one he'd talked her out of. Nothing more needed to be said, so Dinah left the fastest way she could. Oliver sensed her intentions a second before she jumped on the ledge; he felt the flutter on his radar. Then she leapt from the edge. He didn't need to look down to know she was okay – her body was more durable these days. He looked out over the city, sighed, and winged away. One blink and he was gone.

An empty rooftop remained. The city of Seattle bustled on, entirely unaware.


End file.
